Fragile
by LaClaireFolie
Summary: River wasn't wrong. The Doctor doesn't like to see the damage. But with Clara Oswald, he starts to make an effort to look. After all, she's (probably) just a girl and more scared, more hurt, than she lets on.


Titel: Fragile

Disclaimer: Doctor Who does not belong to me.

Synopsis: River wasn't wrong. The Doctor doesn't like to see the damage. But with Clara Oswald, he starts to make an effort to look. After all, she's (probably) just a girl and more scared than she lets on.

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Fragile

Clara Oswald reminds him of a pretty china doll with petite form, her heart shaped, pretty face and her white, spotless skin.

And she is just as fragile, he reminds himself as he watches her walk away to dry her hair. Because even though she claimed that she counts on anything to happen, that that's why she ran away with a spaceman in a box, he needs to start taking better care of her.

River wasn't wrong, of course, that he doesn't like seeing the damage. He is, after all, an ageless god who insists on the face of a twenty – something – he does not look like a twelve – year old, thank you very much, no he doesn't – and they're all just humans, just mortals, just breakable little things. And he does hate endings, he has never denied that.

But that's not why he doesn't like seeing the damage. That's for an entirely different reason.

He remembers clearly what Davros said to him when he still was another person, with another face entirely. He remembers hearing that even though he never carries a gun, even though he abhors violence, he takes ordinary people and fashions them into weapons.

And if he'd ever allow himself to think about it, he'd find that it's true.

So he doesn't like to see the damage he does, he doesn't like to look too closely because with every damage, they become more and more like weapons.

But ever since Manhattan, he makes himself look because he now kind of knows what people would do for him, how far they'd go and how easy he loses them if he doesn't pay attention. And he kind of knows how much they hurt because of him.

River showed him that and he isn't sure if he should thank or hate her for it.

And there's another reason that makes him make himself look at Clara. Well, two reasons really. Maybe three.

She's impossible. The woman twice dead and still alive. And she doesn't even know it. So he has to figure out what and who she is and to do that, he has to watch her.

And he already lost her twice. First when he didn't even know her, when she was his most hated enemy and he had lost her before he had even met her, before he had even know that he wanted to not – lose her and then a second time when he had known her not long, when he had no understanding of who she really was, but had wanted her at his side nonetheless. And now he knows her – except that he doesn't – and he cares so much for her. So he's not ready to loose her ever again, he needs to protect her and to do that, he has to watch her.

And – he doesn't admit this to himself – she's just so human, everything she does is so human, and her inherent fragileness undoes him a little bit. He hates the idea of her turning into a weapon, into a Defender of the Earth, a doctor working for UNIT, the most important woman in all of creation, a girl who can rewrite her own future or a Centurion. But he fears that it's inevitable, that she might become a weapon anyway, so he watches her being human while she still is.

He remembers the moment he heard her say those words on the telephone, he remembers the pure and utter bliss that flodded his system once he heard her say "Run, you clever boy, and remember" and the even greater joy he felt when she opened the door and looked so much like the second Clara he met. His first instinct had been to hug and kiss and smother her with his affection, but thinking back, he's glad he didn't. She might have punched him if he had.

And then the moment of terror when he heard her saying that she didn't know where she was. Every other thought had immediately vanished and all he had wanted was to save her. He could not lose her again. Not this time. Not now.

Not ever.

But he knows, in the back of his head, that losing her is probably inevitable. His former self had been right, after all: She could spend all her life with him, but he could not spend his life with her.

He wants that, even if it's selfish, he wants her to spend all her life with him, but at the same time he doesn't. She's so beautiful, so vibrant, and he isn't sure what watching her wither and die might do to him. And yet he is not ready to let her go, that fragile, beautiful human child at his side.

Maybe he'll never be.

But then again, he never is. He wasn't ready when he locked Susan out of the TARDIS or when Barbara and Ian decided to travel back to their own time or when Vicki decided to stay in Troy or when he lost Katarina or when Dodo walked away or when Polly and Ben went back home or when Victoria decided to stay with the Harris family or when he was seperated from Jamie and Zoe or when Jo married or when he had to leave Sarah Jane in Aberdeen or when Leela decided to stay with Andred or when Adric died or when Nyssa decided to stay on the space station Terminus to help or when Tegan decided to leave or when Turlough returns to Trion or when he lost Peri or when Mel left to travel with Sabalom or when Ace left or when he had to leave Grace behind or when Rose was torn away from him or when Martha decided to go or when he had to wipe Donna's memories or when he lost Rory and Amy on that graveyard. He definitely wasn't ready when Clara Oswin Oswald fell.

So when Clara comes back, her hair dried and curly, leaning against the console beside him, he wraps his arm around her shoulder and gives her a gentle squeeze.

"So, Clara, where to now? What do you want to see, eh?"

She leans her head ever so slightly against his shoulders – not for the first time does he notice that she has the perfect height for that – and chews on her lower lip. Having traveled with and watched her for quite a while now, he know that this means that there's something she wants to ask or say, but doesn't dare to.

Then finally she looks up. "I... I was wondering, Doctor... it's a time machine, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course it is. You already know that."

"I do." She nibbles at her lower lip again. "And it can go anywhere in time, can't it?" He just nods in response. "So... can I... can we go and see my mum again?"

The question takes him aback and he remembers another person, another companion who lost a parent, blonde and selfish and naive and selfless at the same time, looking at him – another him with a leather jacket, big ears and cropped hair – asking wether they could go see her dad. He couldn't deny it back then, but this time it's all different because he was already all over the place, already watched Clara's parents. Taking her back there – it doesn't matter when precisely, just sometime to see her mum – would mean two versions of him being there, would mean that she could see him watching her – even though she already knows he watched her, she just doesn't know the full extent of it – and it would mean that she could do what Rose did. She could save her mother's life, bringing back the reapers.

Taking Clara to see her mother is a terrible idea.

"Yes."

She squeels in delight and wraps her arms around him, hugging him almost painfully tight. He allows himself to enjoy the hug for a long moment before pushing her away, holding her at arm's lenght and staring into her eyes intently.

"But under one... no, two conditions." She nods very solemnly. "We can't go to the day she died and you can't save her." He sees her heartbreak in her eyes and immediately cups her cheek, staring down at her intently. "Oh, Clara, I am so so sorry. But we can't save her life. It would rip a wound into time, change the future forever and bring down the Reapers." He sees that she doesn't really understand and keeps explaining, trying to ease her pain that pains him as well. "You need to understand... your mother, a simple woman, is the most important thing in creation. Keeping her alive means having a woman alive that is already dead. That creates a paradox and rips a wound into time that attracts the Reapers... dreadful creatures, those Reapers. They clean that wound by killing everyone inside of it. And that means everyone on Earth. And they can only be stopped if your mother dies." She has burried her face in her hands by now, he knows she's trying to hide her tears, but he won't let her. She's hurting, he's damaging her and since he is, he will look and do everything to make it better so he pries her hands awa from her face, holding them with one hand and cupping her face with the other. "I am so sorry. Please believe me. I am so sorry for not being able to change anything, for not being able to spare you the pain."

Thick tears fall from her lashes and run down her face and he wraps her in his arms. She burries her head in his shoulder, he runs one hand down her back and draws circles on her back. After a while – maybe a minute – she steps back and squeezes his hand. "Alright. I understand. I... I accept your conditions." He sighs and places a kiss on her forehead. She smiles up at him. "But can you... can you go to take me to their wedding? I only know pictures, I wasn't born yet."

"Of course!" He just quickly checks his memory – no, he hasn't been at her parents wedding yet – and then continues. "A wedding will be lovely. Your parent's wedding. Lovely idea. I like weddings. Last time I went to a wedding, I had just restarted the Universe, been erased from history and brought back into existence." With that, he lets go of her hand and starts jumping around the console, pushing buttons and levers.

"Well, I'd be glad if you'd keep things like that from happening at my parents wedding, chin boy."

_"No sense of humor and that chin!"_

"Tell me I'm cool, Chin Boy."

"Rescue me, Chin Boy, and show me the stars!"

"What's going on? You're looking at me all funny again." Clara's voice tears him away from his thoughts, from her voice playing in his mind and yes, he has stared at her again, without noticing at all.

He sometimes – often – does that. "Are you sure about this?" He asks. "You know you'll have to be very extremely careful."

She licks her lips hesitantly, but then nods. "Of course I know. And I will be. I promise." With that, she bounces over to him and looks up almost expectantly. "10th October 1988. London."

He starts the TARDIS and she links her arm with his as they fly along. He smiles down at her. "Why don't you go and get dressed? I'll call you when we're there."

"Are you implying that what I'm wearing doesn't look good?" She replies cheekily and looks him up and down. "But if I'm changing, so are you, do you hear me?"

With that, she's already down the corridor to her room before he can defend himself and tell her that no, that wasn't what she meant, she looks lovely in the dress she's wearing, so he turns back to the TARDIS and strokes her control. "I really don't know what you've got against her, Sexy. You've never behaved like this before." His ship doesn't respond and not for the first time he wishes she'd be around in her corporal form again. "I guess you don't really trust her for some reason or other." This time, a slight humming fills the console room. "Well, though luck, Sexy, because she isn't going anywhere. I happen to like her quite a bit." Sexy doesn't respond to that either, so he just fiddles with her console again for a bit.

Then Clara comes back and he can't help but stare.

_"I know what I said. I was the one who said it."_

"You're like one of those guys that can't go out with a girl unless his mother approves."

"What do you keep in here?"

"I burn in here."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"_I don't know what the hell this is about, but the hug is really nice."_

"_I don't wanna forget."_

"I've seen it in one corner of that tiny..."

"We'll still have secrets?"

She's wearing the exact same dress, all red and kind of sparkly and short and pretty, that she wore on the day that never happened, the day she found his name and about her other selves, the day she got lost in the TARDIS. For Rassilon's sake, she even wears her hair the same way.

For about a millisecond he considers asking her to change again, but then he decides against it. After all, she looks rather lovely in that particular dress and they've already reached London.

"Doctor? You alright?"

He blinks twice and realizes that she isn't standing on the stairs anymore, she's right beside him and her dress brushes against his arm, making him remember the feeling of it against his skin as he hugs her on that cliff.

"Yes, of course. You ready to go?"

She nods and he walks towards the door, knowing that she's right behind him, holding it open for her.

~*~

As she sits in the church beside him, watching the wedding of her parents with a calm fascination, he can't keep himself glancing at her again and again. It's something about her overall demeanour, her straight posture, her eyes that never leave her parents, her hair do and the profile of her face that makes him want to absorb the image of her, of how she is in this precise moment, into his mind to keep there forever.

She doesn't pay him any attention at all, unlike she usually does, and he isn't sure how that makes him feel. A bit jealous maybe, if he was the kind of person that gets jealous, but he isn't, so the idea of him being jealous because she's fascinated by her parents and not by him is just ridiculous. But with her face turned away almost completely, he can't see her eyes and thus can't guess her emotions which worries him just a bit. He hates not knowing how she feels and right now, he doesn't have any idea at all. Is she happy to see her mother again, all alive and bursting with joy? Or is she sad to see her when she knows what will inevitably happen?

Then her hand suddenly sneaks into his, her fingers intertwining with his and he gives them a light squeeze, glancing at her again before he turns his eyes back to the couple in front of them that is exchanging their rings at the moment.

Her hand in his always feels good and right, as if that is where it belongs. Maybe they do.

But that's a silly thought, all in all, because there's still River, his wife – in a way – kind of – though that was in a lost time line – and though it wasn't really him, it was a robot pretending to be him – and love who'd be very angry if she saw him with Clara. Or would she?

He's barely ever sure about anything with River.

And he's almost never sure about anything with Clara, even though he has kind of established that she doesn't know either what is going on, that she is not some elaborate trap to lure him in, because that air of mystery is still continously around her. She seems so much like nothing but a girl that he really wants to believe that that's all she is, but at the same time he's being a bit more guarded than he ever was with anyone before. They have been on quite few adventures by now and he still has neither told her about the Time War - though she has read about it during the day that never happened – nor given her a TARDIS key. He doesn't really know why, but he's afraid of what will happen if he does that. Maybe she'll turn out to be trap and attack him. Maybe he'll lose her again.

He banishes that thought as soon as it creeps up because this is supposed to be a happy occurence and he will not go and ruin this by thinking sad thoughts about losing someone he loves, nope, no way he'll do that.

Loves.

He startles a bit as he realises that he just thought about Clara calling her "someone he loves". Well. Good that she didn't hear that, he thinks to himself as he looks down at her, only to be startled a second time as he sees tears rolling down her cheeks.

He has always been rubbish with tears and he has always been rubbish at weddings, but the combination of those things is too much for him to handle. Especially with Clara who he has never seen as anything but fiery, snarky, fierce, happy, brave Clara.

_"More scared than she lets on."_

Is she also more hurt than she lets on? Sadder than she lets on?

Seeing tears silently streaming down her faces, he thinks she probably is, so he lets go of her hand and puts an arm around her instead, pulling her close to his right side and gripping her now free hand with his left one. He draws circles on her arms, unconsciously writing in circular Gallifreyan, hoping to calm her down or make her happy again while her now married parents walk by them, leaving the church.

They remain seated while people leave the church, Clara still curled up by his side, her face burried against his chest. She stays like this for a while, not really shaking or sobbing or anything, but he can feel her tears on his shirt and in her uneven breathing.

Finally she pulls away and, trying to hide her face, wipes over her eyes with the back of her hand. "So... sorry. I just... I don't know. I guess I just wasn't prepared for this." She whispers.

He watches her intenly for a long moment, thinking that he has never before seen her this vulnerable and this reminds her of her over all encompassing humanity. He isn't sure why, but his hearts hurt just a tiny bit, as if they were sore, as he watches her and hears her quite sniffle, so he pulls her against his chest for another hug. "Quite right, too." Again he starts rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Then she pulls away completely, but leaves her hands on his chest, right over his hearts. "You... you really have two hearts."

"Amd 27 brains." He smiles at her and she smiles back a bit reluctantly and even though there are still tear stains on her face, she looks just a bit amused.

"It's nice. Kind of. Your heart beat, I mean. Odd, but... nice."

She just stares at his chest and her hands and not for the first time he wonders just what exactly is going on in that impossible girls head. He has saved people from the Wi – fi, defeated a fake god, saved a Russian submarine from an Ice Warrior, gotten a woman out of a pocket universe and explored the TARDIS on a day that never happened with her, but at times, he still only partially understands her.

This is one of those times and he really doesn't quite know what to do, so he just craddles her face, feeling the beating of her single heart echo in her pulse ever so slightly under his fingertips on her neck.

They look at each other for a long, long time.

"I... I wasn't with her when she died." Clara suddenly says. "It... it was a weird day, you know? 5th March 2005. I... I was on my way home, I had been with friends and I was just... just a street corner from home, you know? And then, suddenly... I don't know, the shop... the shop dummies, they started moving and bashing in windows... and I was so scared, so I just ran back home..." Her voice keeps breaking, there are again tears on her face, but she doesn't seem to notice or care, she just keeps talking and he isn't even sure if she sees him, but he lets her talk. "...and my mum opened the door and asked where Dad was... because that was about the time he usually got home as well... and I said I didn't know and she told me... she told me to go inside and into my room... and that I should... close the door behind me... and I did... I hid in my room and later... when my Dad came..." This time, she can't stiffle a sob. "He... he came to get me... and to tell me... that one of the dummies... that he had sho... shot my mother."

He pulls her into his arms and lets her cry agains his chest, her tiny hands fisting into his shirt, her whole body shaking, while he remembers that day.

That day when he, two lives back, first met a human worth traveling back for, this pink and yellow girl that helped him safe the world and that, when he first asked, refused to come with him so he traveled on his own for a bit – just for a bit, just three little trips – before going back to almost the exact second he left her at to ask again. Only to have her come with him.

He was so caught up in what happened that day and what happened afterwards – the year five billion, chips and Cardiff – that he never stopped to think that maybe the Autons had done some damage after all. He and Rose had been so happy about it all, about stopping the Nestene consciousness that he never even stopped to think that maybe he had saved the world, but hadn't saved everyone.

And now, holding the still crying Clara in his arms, he can't help but wonder if maybe Ellie Oswald could still be alive if he had been just a bit faster.

"I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry." He whispers into her hair.

She pulls away at that, wiping her eyes again. "It's... it's okay. It's not like you could have saved her."

There's a tight knot in his chest as he hears her say those words and even though he hesitates for a second, he decides to be honest for a change. So he tells her about the day he met Rose Tyler and the day the Autons attacked, about the London Eye, the Nestene consciousness and the anti – plastic. It isn't easy, but he knows it's right, it's necessary and therefore it doesn't hurt too much when she stands up wordlessly when he's done with her story and walks away, out of the church, without looking back.

He stays seated for a long moment, burrying his face in his hands and trying to dull the ache in his chest, trying to prepare for when he gets back to the TARDIS and she either won't be there or will be there to ask to be taken home. It's not much use, but he finally stands up and leaves the church to walk back to where he has parked his ship.

Then he turns a corner and there she is, sitting on the floor with her back against the TARDIS doors and her knees drawn against her chest and oh Rassilon, he is not ready to lose her, not at all, not this one, not yet, please let her stay, please don't take her just yet, please please pleae let him get what he wants just this once because maybe he needs her, her and no one else, that mysterious, snarky, clever, pretty, fragile human girl, please please please stay.

"Doctor." Her smile is a more than little sad, but there are no more tears on her face as she stands up. "Your ship won't let me in. Guess she still doesn't like me."

He realizes he's frozen to the spot and blinks twice before reacting at all. Only then is he able to walk up to her and open the door for her to let her in. "Sorry about that. She still hasn't gotten used to you." He mumbles, not sure if she heard and not entirely caring. He's just morose and sad. "So. Back home I guess?"

She steps closer and, completely unexpectedly, wraps her arms around him, placing her head just over one of his hearts. He takes a millisecond to realise that she's hugging him before hugging back, wrapping her tiny figure in his arms, hoping to make her feel safe and sound there. Breathing in her scent, he wonders what exactly he's smelling here – a sort of fruity perfume or shampoo, he guesses and tries to memorise it before she leaves like all the others do. With a tiny sigh he hopes she hasn't heard, he burries his head in her hair.

"This... Doctor, this isn't good bye, you know that, don't you?" She whispers and he's so surprised that he takes a step back, hands still on her shoulders, and stares at her for a bit, mouth ajar and eyes wide. "I... I just need a short break. Three days or something, at home, with my dad. But you'll have to come back to pick me back up, do you hear that?"

"Of course, Clara! Of course I'll come back for you!" Oh, what a ridiculous idea, that he wouldn't come back to get her. Does she really think he would do something like that?

She looks at him and smiles shyly. "I'm staying with you. Always."

He doesn't know why he does whatever he does next, but suddenly there are her lips on his own, all warm and soft, moving against his on their own accord, sweet and lovely and a bit longing and he wonders for a bit why he hasn't done this before because he definitely should have because this is fantastic, this is perfect, this is like landing after he has fallen for all his life and her soft, pink lips on his feel just a bit like home.

Then they're suddenly gone and he looks at her as she opens her eyes, a slight pink tinge on her cheeks, one hand still resting on one of his hearts. "Wow." She whispers. Than she stands on her tip toes and places another quick, chaste kiss on his lips. "Take me home, Doctor. I'll be back in two days."

He nods and turns back to the console, starting the TARDIS with the coordinates set for Clara's home place and time while she stands beside him, a hand resting on his upper arm. "It's a time machine. You don't have to wait two days."

He looks at her and realises that she's right, he can just take her home and then jump forward. "Oh Clara Oswald, you beauty!" He exclaims before placing kiss on her forehead. And she is, after all. She is a beauty and she is his.

As she leaves the TARDIS, he stares at her, all small and fragile and human, and he can't really help it, he wonders what it would be like if he left her now, if he just didn't come back and allowed her to stay with his father and the Maitlands instead. She'd be completely save, he knows that, and probably happy, after a while, if he never comes back and lets her live out her days in peace.

But then again, that's not who he is. He has, after all, just found a bit more about her – about how her lips feel on his, how her body feels pressed against his own – and he is far too selfish to let her go without the opportunity of getting to know her more and more until he knows this fragile human girl inside out like the back of his hand.


End file.
